Lessons
by Lady Pandora
Summary: When Connor meets a young woman with magickal powers he feels an instant connection with her. She teaches him lessons in forgiveness, acceptance and love. But what is her connection to Angel? Connor/OC *TBC at Wattpad*
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note:** Hey Guys. _waves_ This is my first posting, even though I've been a member for a heck of a long time. I've finally plucked up the courage to post something. Yay me!

The following piece of fiction is complete, having finished it around 3 years back._ hangs head in_ _shame for not posting sooner_ But it may take me a while to upload all the chapters, so please bear with me as I'm still finding my way around. :)

So, this particular piece was inspired after watching the Season 3 episode _'A New World'. _I really got into the idea of Connor having a friend he could relate to and trust (poor kid needs one). In later episodes such as Season 4's _'Slouching Towards Bethlehem',_ inspired me more as I loved the whole relationship between him and Cordelia. Although not the ending. Definitely not the ending. The story is set after Connor dumps Angel in the Pacific (obviously), but its long before Jasmine. Wesley isn't estranged from the rest of the team and Cordelia isn't a higher being. Oh, and Gunn hasn't killed Fred's professor. Yup, I like to mix things up and confuse you all. :)

I should also point out that I have used a fair few one-liners from the show, because they were one of the main reasons why I adored this show until its bitter end. :) It might also be worth mentioning that I am also a bit of a _Charmed _fan and have used the Halliwells powers as my characters own.

Uh...I think that's it. So...I don't own anything. Unfortunately. Nothing except my character, Trinity. Whom I adore the very bones of. :) And maybe a couple of others along the way.

Please feel free to review - bad or good. I don't want any of you to feel that just because this is my first post that you have to be gentle, I'd rather you gave it to me straight. So if you think this story is a pile of horse poo - please say so. Thanks! On with the show...

* * *

**Lessons**

_Chapter 1_

The thing - demon, whatever it was - came towards her in the blackness of the alley, she stood rooted to the very spot, trying desperately to figure out her next move. It was so dark in the alley. Why was that? Why was it that there were either no streetlights in alleys and if there were they were out? Nothing but Dumpsters and graffiti and filth.

_Focus, Trinity. Focus...or die._

She took a deep breath. Held it. While the demon continued its journey towards her. She couldn't out-run it. There was nowhere to run to. Her back was up against the wall. She had tried everything. So far she had managed to survive. There was no-one or nothing in sight. Just blackness. And silence. She was alone. Like always. And for the first time in her life Trinity didn't know what to do next.

That night had started out as a pretty much run-of-the-mill ordinary night. Or as ordinary as it could be for her. She had left her cramped one-bedroom Downtown apartment for the club where she worked most nights. Since her arrival in L.A. she'd had to find work of some kind to cover the rent. Waitressing and bar-work had been her only options. She had opted for the latter. Working through the night was a good thing for her. It was night-time she hated the most. Night was when all the evil lurking, came out of the shadows and pounced. And if there was one thing that Trinity didn't like, it was evil. She'd seen enough to last her a hundred lifetimes.

She had gone to work as normal, gotten paid as usual and made her way back to her apartment. Only to find that the entire place had been ransacked. But nothing had been taken. She had immediately come to the conclusion that this was no normal burglary. Whoever had done this had clearly been looking for something very specific. And she knew what. Sensing danger was on the way she had done what anyone would have done - She had ran. And ended up in this back alley, the stench of urine and filth under her nose, being attacked by a blue seven-foot demon, with a real ugly face and sharp teeth. The only pretty thing about it was the neon-blue crystal embedded in its head. Trinity found looking at it was helping to calm her. Then figured maybe that was its purpose. To lull its victim into a sense of false security. But she knew now was not the time for relaxation.

She had thrown things at it. Trash cans, pieces of wood and metal. None of which had deterred it. She had even used mind-tricks, moved one of those big old Dumpsters, sent it flying through the air, but it had only succeeded in making it even more angry than it was. So then she had used her good old freezing trick. That never let her down. Only to find, as she had run as fast as her legs would carry her, that for some strange reason the freeze had lasted a mere few seconds instead of its usual sixty.

Trinity was a wiccan. But a good witch. As well as inheriting her mothers red curls and green eyes, she had also inherited her powerful abilities. At times, incredibly useful. At others...well, she felt as if those gifts were a burden. It seemed a lot of people wanted what she had. And she knew of old that they would stop at nothing to get it.

Like now.

The demon threw back its huge head and roared. Living off her adrenaline and instinct, Trinity held out her hands and with everything she had, with all of her strength, felt the energy course through her body. The invisible force shot out of her fingertips and hit the demon smack in the center of its chest. She was horrified to see that what normally would have blown evil up, only managed to make a small dent in which green slime began to slowly ooze. The demons eyes widened and glinted in fury and she knew she had really pissed it off.

'Uh-oh,' she muttered. 'Now what?'

'Hey!,' called out a sudden voice somewhere behind her.

Afraid to take her eyes off the demon for a second, she cast a very quick glance in the direction of the voice and was startled and relieved to see a young guy. He looked just like any other ordinary teenager, maybe around eighteen, except in one hand he held a very big and very sharp-looking viking ax, which told her that whoever this guy was, he was by no means ordinary. She wondered when people stopped carrying swiss army knives.

The demon seemed to have been swayed by this newcomer, too. So she grabbed the opportunity to take another look at him. He was average height, slim but athletic looking with shoulder length brown hair, wearing dirty jeans and a shirt, and from what she could make out he looked kind of cute. But he could have looked like Groucho Marx for all she cared, because right now it seemed that she had a guardian angel after all.

'Need a hand?,' the stranger asked with a grin curling up one corner of his mouth.

She didn't get a chance to answer as the demon roared and came charging once again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Lessons**

_Chapter 2_

Connor had spent the entire night patrolling the streets of L.A. Staking vamps, beheading demons, kicking butt. For him, just another normal night. It was what he lived for. What he was meant to do. The reason he was here. Even if it took an eternity he would fight to the bitter end. He had plenty of time to kill. Literally.

In Quor'toth, the hell dimension he had escaped from, time knew no limit or boundary. He had gone there a baby, just over a year ago. An innocent child. And he had come back months before, the young man he was now. He had seen things on that plane that he didn't know could even exist. Evil beyond all measure. Death. Destruction. He had made his mark there and in doing so had earned himself the title '_The Destroyer'_. Fighting was in his blood. And he was a remarkable warrior. Together he and Holtz, the man he had always thought, presumed to be his father, until his natural father had put paid to that theory; had formed a strong and mutual bond. Together they had fought. Until the day he had discovered a portal and escaped from Quor'toth. Him and Holtz. But now Holtz was dead.

As he roamed the streets alone, ax over his shoulder, eyes hardened, jaw clenched, he shook away the memory of it. There was a sullen look upon his heart-shaped face, a darkness in his hard stare and a coldness within his heart. He didn't care to think of his natural father. There was too much inside of him when he did. Hate. Denial. Fear. Insecurity. It was all there. He was alone and he worked alone. And that was fine by him.

He had been rounding the corner, heading back to the abandoned warehouse where he had set up home, when the sound of running footsteps in the alley on the opposite side of the street alerted him. He had a fine ear and a sense for danger. And this was it. He turned and ran across the street and he had been right.

Right away he had recognised the demon as a Brachus demon. The crystal on their forehead was their life-force and smashing it was the only way to kill them. Then he noticed the girl. She was pretty, with long wavy hair. He didn't think she would be clued up on the crystal-smashing thing and it was confirmed when she began waving her hands at the demon. A grin had split his face. Like waving at it was going to work. Moments later he had been astounded when the demon let out a blood-curdling roar and the green pus began to ooze from the gaping wound in its chest.

_Oh-kay and she did that, how, exactly?_

But there was no time to ponder over the how or why, as the demon made its move.

* * *

With a loud grunt Connor slammed the ax into the demons side. It roared and swiped at him with one big shovel-like paw. It lifted him clear off the ground and then tossed him against the wall. His ax fell to the floor as he came crashing down at an angle, which under normal circumstances, would probably have cracked a bone in his neck. But these were by no means normal circumstances. And neither was he. He was on his feet in seconds, grabbed up his ax and sidestepped another angry swipe of the demon. Somersaulting up into the air, Connor lifted the ax high above his head in a wide arc and with a mighty sweep buried it clean into the demons head, smashing the crystal in one blow. Its huge body fell to its knees roaring in pain, its thick paws clutching at its head oozing with pus.

Connor landed smoothly on his feet and watched in satisfaction as the demon fell to the ground its head slamming against the concrete, the neon-blue crystal slowly flickered to a dull gray, the wound still spewing out green pus. The demon gave one last weak-sounding roar before finally dying.

The girl had been standing back out of the shadows, but now she stepped forward looking down at the massive and very dead demon at the strangers feet.

Connor turned his head and looked at her and for the first time saw just how pretty she was. He supposed she was a little older than him, around nineteen, maybe twenty. She was dressed in combats and sneakers and her waves of hair were the color of scorched earth. But it was her eyes that took away his breath. Incredible, wide, almost cat-like they were and when she turned her head and her gaze rested on him, he could see that they were the deepest green.

'Wow!,' she gasped, shaking her head. 'How did you – '

'Brachus demon,' he told her. 'It's the only way to kill them.' He held out his hand, offered it to her and watched with interest as her gaze ticked cautiously from his hand back to his face. 'Come on,' he said. 'We should go. There could be others.'

Trust didn't come easy to Trinity. But something told her that she could trust him and not just because he had saved her life. Or even because he had killed that demon like he'd been doing it most of his. He had moved so fast and in a way she had never seen another human being move. Infact, she didn't think human beings could move so fast.

That thought in mind, she slid him another cautious look. He looked normal enough, whatever that was. But she knew from past experience that looks alone didn't mean a thing. But it was his eyes...they were the brightest, clearest blue. They were open and honest. She saw other things, too. Darker things. Yet they didn't discourage her. For she had her own dark secrets and fears and she was suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that he had lost everything, too. Without another thought she placed her hand in his. Found it to be warm. Strong.

_Safe._

Connor curled his fingers around hers. They looked at one another. He lifted the ax and hoisted it over his shoulder. Then he gave her a slow, reassuring smile and when she slowly smiled back, his heart felt glad.

Then together they began to run, heading back down and out of the dark alley.


	3. Chapter 3

Big thanks to cHoCoLaTe-cHiHuAhUa for reviewing. :) Hope you enjoy this next instalment.

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**Lessons**

_Chapter 3_

She followed him inside the dark and cold abandoned warehouse and up the stairs which in places were rotting. He told her to watch her step and offered her his hand. She held onto it still as they made their way down a hallway towards a closed door at the very end. She looked up and saw that parts of the roof were gone, the night sky gaping through the holes. The place smelled damp and funky. Something scuttled in a pile of papers which had blown in from what she thought had once been a window and she jumped, tightened her hand around his. Through the darkness Connor smiled at her.

'Don't be afraid,' he said gently. 'Rats can't hurt you.'

They reached the closed door. Going inside he leaned the ax up against the wall, blood and green goo still dripping off it's blade. He closed the door behind her and lifting one of two planks of wood standing propped up by the door, he shoved it into the metal bolts on either side of the frame, then lifted the other and jammed it beneath the door-knob. Turning, he caught the worried look in her eyes.

'Security's night off,' he joked with a gentle smile and she nodded, smiling.

It was cold in the room and the thin jean-jacket she wore over an equally thin tee-shirt wasn't enough to keep her warm. She began to shiver. Behind her she heard him move. Then she felt the thick, warm sweater being draped around her shoulders. She turned and he looked at her. His face was close to hers.

'Just until the fire gets going,' he said.

He moved to the other side of the room, picked up a box of matches and began lighting the many candles dotted around. As the light fell and glowed, she could see that the room was quite big. With two windows. One of which was boarded up. There was a fireplace at the far side of the room. He was bent down in front of it now, filling the grate with paper and wood, before lighting a match to it and waiting for the flames to take hold.

To the right of the fireplace on the floor, there was a mattress. Beside that a makeshift table piled high with books. From the wall above, hanging from many hooks were his clothes. Jeans and shirts, t-shirts and jackets. There was a trash-can in the corner beside the boarded up window, and when she looked inside she realised he used it to cook food. She looked at him, still down on his knees, tossing wood on the fire to get it burning. She pulled the sweater tighter around her shoulders, shivered against the damp air.

Who was he? This strange young hero that had saved her? He lived in an abandoned warehouse, cooked his food in a trash-can and clearly liked to read. When he wasn't out killing demons. She walked over to the window that wasn't boarded up and perched herself on the sill. Her head at an angle, still watching him. Curiosity filled her and she knew she had never been as curious about another human being her whole life.

Sensing her eyes on him, Connor turned to look at her. The moonlight was shining through the window, her outline silhouetted against the darkness outside. She could have been an angel, her hair falling in her eyes and he knew by the way she stared, that she was contemplating him. And his surroundings.

'Ask and I'll tell you,' he simply said and surprised himself, as he didn't willingly invite anyone into his life.

She lifted a hand, tucked a curl behind her ear. 'I'm curious, that's all.'

'Why I live here?' He looked back into the fire, enjoying the warm feeling of the flames against his face. 'I choose to.'

'You don't have a family?'

He gathered himself up and then nodded his head. 'I have a family. Kind of.'

'Kind of?'

'My mother is dead and my father...my father is another story,' he said, feeling his jaw clench and release.

'Both my parents are dead.'

He looked at her then and even in the barely lit room saw the sadness in her eyes. She turned away and gazed out of the window. 'What's your name?,' he asked her.

'Trinity,' she replied.

'That's a beautiful name. I'm Connor,' he told her.

'Irish.'

'I think so.' He waited a beat. 'Earlier...I saw you do something to that demon. With your hands.'

She turned to him and immediately dropped her eyes from his enquiring gaze. 'Demons have been chasing me my whole life,' she said. Their eyes met once more, and with it the feeling of trust returned. He understood. She could tell him. She could tell him anything and everything. She just didn't know_ how_ she knew.

'I'm a witch,' she told him in a quiet voice.

He didn't seem surprised or shocked. Nor afraid. Then again, why would he? He had just slain a seven-foot demon and Trinity didn't think it was his first. All he did was look at her.

'And that's why it was after you?'

'I guess,' she said, shivering against the cold again.

'Come sit by the fire.'

Their eyes locked and he moved back making room for her. She climbed down from the sill and crossing her legs, sat facing him. The heat of the flames soaked into her bones and it was such a glorious feeling she closed her eyes, shivered at the pleasure of it.

Connor felt something inside of him reach out to her. His eyes fell on her mouth and he wondered about the velvety softness of her lips. He even imagined how her hair would feel if he ran his fingers through its wild depths. Girls had never really interested him. They were just there. Fighting and survival was what he was about. He had never felt the need to get to know what they were all about. Until now. He was as curious about her as she was him. Couple that with how his heart had thudded against his chest when she had first slipped her hand in his and his curiosity began to build even more.

When she opened her eyes, it was to catch him staring at her. 'I never thanked you,' she said.

'You don't have to thank me,' he told her.

'You saved my life.'

'You don't have to thank me,' he said again. 'Are you hungry?'

She shook her head no. 'I should probably go,' she said. She sounded somewhat reluctant. She had never felt more safe her whole life in this cold, dark place with this strange, young hero.

'Go where?'

Where _did_ she go from here? Back to her ransacked apartment? She didn't think she could ever go back there. Whoever was after her knew now where she lived. Next it would be her place of work and then there really would be nowhere left to hide. She was tired of running, of forever looking over her shoulder.

'You can stay here,' Connor gently told her. 'You'll be safe.'

It was almost as if he had read her mind. And the feeling of trust washed over her again.

'I know it isn't much,' he went on glancing around, 'but it's warm and dry. And safe. There's even a bathroom just down the hall. Everything works. Apart from the hot water that is,' he added with a crooked smile.

She smiled too, but then gave her head a shake. 'I can't stay here.'

'Why not?'

'Because there are people...things, after me. I can't afford to involve anyone else in my troubles.'

'Incase you hadn't noticed I can look after myself. And you,' he said. 'Stay.'

'I...'

He was looking at her with such intent that for a moment it felt as if he had reached inside her soul and taken a good look around. The feeling didn't shock her, just startled her. She had been about to explain that she couldn't stay because she didn't even know him. But as she looked into his clear blue eyes, the truth was it didn't matter that she didn't. Even though somewhere deep inside, she felt like she already did. It was confusing. She couldn't explain it. Wouldn't know how to. He had appeared from out of the darkness and he had risked himself to save her. He had taken her hand and brought her here to this place. His home. To safety. It was all she needed to know. She gazed into the flames of the fire, not thinking about anything except the kindness of a complete stranger. Who didn't feel like a stranger at all.

'If you're tired, you can sleep on the mattress. I'll take the floor,' he said softly.

She glanced at the watch she wore on her left wrist. Three a.m. Late. Or was it early? She let go of a gentle sigh. She was pretty tired. It had been a long and eventful night.

Connor wasn't exactly sure what time it was. Time wasn't important. He had seen the effects of time and what it did to people. You lived - you didn't worry about time. But he knew she must be tired. He was pretty exhausted himself. He got to his feet and pulled back the sheets on the worn mattress.

'You should sleep,' he said.

She nodded. She eased off her sneakers and climbed onto the mattress, pulling the sheets over her, shivering against the cold. He was about to blow out the candles when she stopped him.

'Would you leave them?,' she asked. 'I like the shadows they make. They're happy shadows.'

Understanding, he nodded. 'Okay.'

She watched as he spread out a sheet on the floor in front of the fire. He pulled off his boots and lay down wrapping the sheet around him. He gazed off into the fire and wondered what tomorrow would bring. And what he could do to help her.

_Everything I can_, he thought as he looked over at her. Her eyes were already closed, her hair falling across her face like a red, velvet curtain.

He wondered about the strange feelings he felt inside whenever he looked at her. Didn't know how to deal with him. Never being taught. But he didn't worry. The feelings were new and alien, but they felt good. They felt...happy. And he knew as much not to worry about something that made him feel that way.

With the heat of the fire warming his face he felt his eyes droop, closed them, felt himself drifting and when sleep finally took him over, he dreamed of a girl with flaming red hair and sad green eyes. She took his hand and together they ran. To where, he didn't know. Or care.


	4. Chapter 4

**Lessons**

_Chapter 4_

The next morning Trinity woke to sunlight streaming through the cracked window. She blinked against its orange brightness and for a moment felt disorientated. She sat up, looked around, saw the trash-can, the ax still propped against the wall where he had placed it the night before, and remembered.

The door to the room was ajar, but Connor was nowhere in sight. She ran a hand through her curls and pushed back the covers, she stood and stretched, before slipping her feet into her sneakers. She needed a shower. And a change of clothes. But the only way she could do the latter was by going back to her apartment. The thought made her stomach clench and then she was reminded she hadn't eaten in hours.

The door pushed open then and Connor came through. He wore a pair of well-worn jeans and was towel-drying his hair. He smiled when he saw she was awake. 'Did you sleep well?'

She realised this was the first time she had seen him in daylight. Her initial reaction from the night before had been right. He _was_ cute. His bare chest was smooth and well-defined. The jeans he wore hung low against his hips and tapered waist. He was lean, fit and strong and she knew he hadn't gotten that way by working out at the local gym. She remembered the fancy footwork and back-flips from the night before and wondered further where he had learned all that stuff. Then realising she was staring a little too much and that she hadn't answered his question, she nodded her head.

'I slept really well. You? The floor couldn't have been very comfortable.'

He dropped the towel around his shoulders, as he closed the door behind him. 'I've slept in worse places,' he told her and she didn't doubt it for a second. 'You must be hungry.'

'Starved.'

'I don't have much. I think there's some bread, maybe some cheese.'

'Sounds good. I'll go and get cleaned up first.'

He nodded and stepped away from the door. As she passed him she caught sight of the flesh wound at the top of one arm. It was deep and fresh and she knew it had happened the night before.

'You're hurt,' she said.

Connor glanced down at his arm and shrugged. 'It's just a scratch.'

'It's more than a scratch,' she said and lifted one hand, holding her palm over the wound.

Connor felt something he could only describe as a wonderful feeling burst open inside of him, as it coursed it's way through his entire being. He had never experienced anything quite like it. When he lifted his eyes to hers, he found she was looking right at him and for a moment he was lost somewhere in her green gaze. His heart hammered against his chest and he could hear his blood rushing through his ears. Moments later he felt a surge of energy like a bolt of electricity and without breaking the eye contact between them, she took a small step back. She smiled softly at him then stepped out into the dark, cold of the hallway.

Connor felt the need to swallow hard, but his mouth felt strangely dry. So when he tried, it hurt the back of his throat. His heart was still pounding, but the rush he had felt moments before was gone and as he looked at the top of his arm, he suddenly realised why. So too was the wound.

He ran his fingers over where the deep gash had been. There was nothing. No scar, no blood. No wound. He looked towards the door and was overcome by an overwhelming feeling of reverence. Not only was she beautiful and a witch, but she also possessed the power to heal. She was incredible.

Enchanting.

And his curiosity in her was building with every unfolding second.


End file.
